Brown Eyed Monster
by the flawless bitch
Summary: His old self was twisting away, a distant memory that was on the thread of fading forever. The worst part is that it was all his fault. [Sterek fic] AU


**Chapter One:**

Leaning against his black cameo, Derek Hale stared. An unlit cigarette was perched limply on his lips as students began filing out of Beacon Hills High. His green eyes combed the crowd for Scott who was approximately two minutes and five seconds late. Derek's leg jiggled impatiently. He wanted to hurry home; he hated being caught in after school traffic. Reaching in his back pocket, a plastic bag of cocaine lay in his palm. He tossed it in the air, caught it and repeated the action again. It developed into a game. Derek had it six times when he heard someone's throat clear. He turned seeing Scott smile at him.

"Hey, there" his cheerfulness irked Derek but he managed a small smile anyway.

The two then huddled together and quickly began their exchange. Derek handed the drug over to Scott. The younger boy took it gratefully.

"How much do I owe you?"

"The usual" he replied watching Scott dig a fifty out of his wallet.

Derek crumpled the bill, slipping it into his pocket. Smiling crazily, Scott ripped open the baggie. He wet his finger, dipped it inside and sucked on it.

"Mmmmm" he half moaned in delight.

Rolling his eyes, Derek flicked his cigarette to the ground. He opened the door to his cameo. He got in and started up his engine. At his window, Scott tried to gain his attention.

"What?" he sighed, resisting the urge to grit his teeth.

"You know Stiles Stiliniski right?"

Derek tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel.

"Yeah what about him?"

"He's interested in buying from you"

Derek froze, his mind reeling a 100mph. He pictured Stiles. A scrawny, loud mouth, sarcastic and annoying as hell boy. He tried to imagine him doing drugs but he just couldn't. Stiles wasn't the type of guy who would. Derek had known him since middle school. Unlike Scott, Stiles wasn't stupid. He knew what he wanted to do with his life and taking drugs shouldn't be one of them.

"Derek" Scott was waving his hand in his face.

He snapped out of the daze he was in.

"Tell him I won't deal to him"

A stunned look was on Scott's visage.

"W-why?"

Derek paused, gripping the steering wheel and his knuckles paled.

"Because I said so!"

His foot teased the accelerator. Scott immediately back up as Derek's vehicle zoomed hurriedly off. Once on the road, he lowered his speed to the posted limit. A ticket was the last thing he needed. He was shaken over at what Scott had said. He almost didn't believe it and thought he was lying. But Scott is notorious for being a horrible liar and Derek would have definitely seen through the act if he had.

Derek never has denied a customer before. He dealt to anyone. This time though he was forced to make an exception. Stiles was different from his other customers. He actually had a chance to make something of himself. His innocence would only be tarnished by the drugs. Derek was doing him a favor. It's funny because he couldn't stand Stiles. He shouldn't give a rat's ass what happens to him. Yet he does and that didn't sit well with him. Maybe it was the fact that the two shared something similar with each other.

Both lost someone they loved on in Derek's case more than one. Everyone in town knew. Many people attempted to comfort him with showers of their condolences. Although Derek somewhat appreciated them he wanted to be left alone. Only one person gave him his space, Stiles. He didn't speak a word to him. Some had thought it was severely rude but Derek was extremely appreciative. When his mom died, Derek treated Stiles with the same respect he'd given him. From that day forward, an understanding had formed between them.

An understanding that kept him from entirely hating Stiles. Don't get it twisted, he still didn't like him. Derek came to a halt at a stop sign. Traffic hadn't actually been that bad. He was heading home because he had to prepare dinner before his, Uncle Peter arrived from work. After his parent's death, Peter agreed to take full custody of him. Derek loathed the idea of his uncle being his legal guardian. He was irresponsible as can be, showing up to his job late, partying and bringing home a new girl every night to indulge her in his sexual activities.

Derek was forced to listen to their disturbing moans as he laid in his bed, his pillow scrunched up to his ears, trying to block out the awful sounds. He couldn't wait till he graduated so he could move out. Derek wished he was older so he could take care of himself. He was seventeen years old, qualified for emancipation.

But Peter immediately denied the proposal for him to live on his own. The son of the bitch enjoyed his nephew's suffering. Besides who would be there to cook for him? Peter burned everything, including water. Derek pulled in his driveway his already sour mood, deepening. He had no desire to begin work cooking. He was tempted to order take out but knew Peter would bust him. Derek was an average cook. If he suddenly put shrimp scampi on the table, he would undoubtedly receive eyebrows from Peter.

Trouble would sure follow. Peter doesn't want to waste his money on something that can be easily whipped up in the kitchen. Derek supposes he could make the shrimp scampi. Unfortunately, that would require too much work. Sighing, he reluctantly got out of his car. He trotted to his front porch where his key unlocked the door. The house was quiet just the way he preferred it to be. Before he could step foot in the kitchen his nerves needed to calm down first. He knew the perfect way. Kicking off his shoes, Derek ascended the stairs up to his room. His fingers crawled on his dresser searching for it. His hand clasped around the bag and a smile curved Derek's lips.

He zipped open the bag, removing a wrapped blunt of weed. He got a lighter and lit it. He blew smoke, the sharp aroma of it filling his room. Instantly, his nerves simmered and his smile widened. Derek was now ready for the kitchen. He rapidly finished his smoke and traveled back downstairs. He rummaged in the pantry. Tonight's dinner was going to be ravioli. This probably isn't going to over well with Peter. He dislikes canned foods. Derek doesn't give a shit for he is going to cook it anyway.

He grabbed a pot and turned on the stove. Just as he was about to plug in the can opener, his cell ringtone blared. Checking the caller i.d., Derek answered it on the third ring.

"What do you want, Scott?" his irritated voice demanded.

He was baffled at why he was calling him. Their next exchange wasn't until next week. On the other line, Scott breathed nervously.

"I need to talk to you"

"About what?" Derek's eyebrows were arched.

"About dealing to Stiles"

"I'm not having this conversation with you" Derek says and was going to hang up.

Scott's next question stopped him.

"Why do you have a problem selling to him?"

"I don't have a problem"

"Yes, you do. Every time I mention it you get all freakin hostile on me"

A sigh comes from Derek. The weed has done its job in calming him. But with each question Scott asked his nerves threatened to return.

"Look I don't like him, ok?"

"Bullshit! You don't like Jackson but you deal to him"

He was right. Derek's hatred for Jackson was strong. It was because his arrogant attitude and Derek's brooding didn't clash great. He deals to him because of one reason: more money. He charges him double the amount the his other buyers. At first, Jackson was pissed off about it. But what could he do? Derek was the local drug dealer; there were no others in town. Figuring this out, Jackson swallowed his anger and did business with him. Derek's been milking the rich boy six months now.

"My dealings are none of your damn business!" he spat, his nerves on the verge of resurfacing.

"Stiles really need the drugs" Scott's tone was urgent and serious.

"What do you mean?"

"Today is the anniversary of his mom's death"

"Shit" muttered, Derek knowing where this was leading to.

"He's broken, dude. For years he's carried the burdened of her death and now…now he's finally cracking"

Derek gulped. His grip was becoming sweaty, the cell sliding a little. His heart raced wildly at Scott's words. This was bad. Derek had experienced what Stiles is going through. He was sixteen when the sorrow of his decreased parents gotten too much for him. The pain he felt became overbearing and he needed to numb it. That's when he turned to drugs. He found a stash of weed in Peter's room. He remembered how peaceful and happy his uncle looked when he smoked them. Derek stole a few and tried it. From then on he fell downhill. He was hooked on drugs and couldn't stop. He kept going back to Peter's room where he discovered a whole collection of drugs.

He told some of his friends at school about it. They asked for some and Derek's role as a seller was born. Word that he was selling erupted like fire. Pretty soon he had requests from left and right. Eventually, Peter got wind of this and Derek thought for sure he was in deep shit. But he was wrong. Peter allowed him to continue his business on one condition, if he got half of the profit. Derek agreed to it because it was fair. The drugs were his uncle's and he was taking it.

"So will you help him?" Scott questioned desperately.

"Let me think about it" said, Derek rubbing his face and he fought down a yawn.

He didn't wait for Scott's reply and ended the call. He placed his cell on the counter as many thoughts rushed through his head. He didn't know what to do. A part of him wants to help Stiles while the other doesn't. Picking up the can and putting it under the opener, Derek turned it on. As he watched the seal of the can being sliced open, he wondered why his life was so damn complicated.

**A/N: This story is AU. Derek is in his teen years as well as Stiles. Some of the characters from the show will not be featured in this fic. This story is not going to have a happy ending. You've been warned. Will update soon. **


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